#(definitely not native kfc ad cough cough)

[volno-pesh]

@vibingleaf and my priorities:

[kevwas-blog-blog]

The day I beat the Mauritian Open Golf Champion.

The title says it all really,

So there’s not going to be much suspense in this story, also to compound what I did, it was on his own course, but if I had added that, the title could have been longer than the story.

So some background, the guy is Called Rhoy, (I’ll save him the embarrassment and won’t use his full name), Rhoy is a native Mauritian, 2 metres tall, loves dancing, KFC and Nutella, he is one of those naturally gifted sportsmen, and as is so often the case, the most laid back guy on the planet.

He plays tennis to an exceptional level without really moving, hit’s a golf ball with the power of Thor and has the touch of the most delicate Asian hooker around the greens, and does it all with absolutely no effort, and never breaks sweat.

At the tender age of 13 he was beating the adults and became the youngest ever Island Open Golf Champion while still in his teens, when we played he had reached the mature age of mid 30’s.

Over too many glass’s of wine, I stupidly issued the challenge to Rhoy, we would play on his course, with our relevant handicaps, he was scratch (0) I was playing off 24, I didn’t even have my clubs shoes or anything with me, but it’s amazing what a couple of bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon does to your ability levels, not to mention confidence.

“Bru, it wouldn’t even be a game, I could beat you blindfolded”  this was Rhoy not me, “If you are so sure then Rodney (my nickname for him) let’s play, and we can even have a few shillings on the side”

I was now on a roll, “rules are, handicap scoring, I keep score, you cannot add any clubs to your bag after we  start, and when in doubt the decision goes in my favour”

“Bru, I promise, it won’t be pleasant for you”  

The thing that was in my favour was that Rhoy had never played golf with me before and therefor had no idea about my ability to cheat, be creative with shots, scores and apply some of the best gamesmanship imaginable.

I had been known to give score cards before a game had even started, and had developed the perfect delayed spin shot, where I could hit a ball into rough, and my delayed spin would kick in and it would miraculously bounce back onto the fairway, usually about the same time as I found it.

I had a “hand grenade” bunker special, I had my “Explosive” shot where I hit the ball so hard the name on the ball would change.

Usually I didn’t count air shots, bad shots, ones I didn’t like, putts off the green and claimed a gimme if the ball was on the green….

“If you insist then Ok we will do it, my course winner gets $100”?

“Done, in fact let’s make it $200” (wine talking not me)

So we then fast forward and find ourselves at Tamarina Golf Estate,  Rhoy had kindly found me some clubs, but shoes were a problem, 

“ no worries Bru you can buy some from the shop” 

So I ended up buying the most expensive pair of shoes Golf or otherwise, that I had ever purchased, I could see him laughing at me when the dude behind the counter told me the price, as I was wearing them and ready to T off I couldn’t really say anything except,  “American Express”?

Onto the first T we marched, (no practice range, I didn’t want him to see what I had), we shook hands once again agreed the rules, and prepared to do battle.

His first shot was clean and true like a bullet 300 yards straight down the middle of the fairway, very nice indeed, mine was similar except it was shorter wasn’t really straight and was more of a rubber bullet.  

I won’t bore you with too many details, just to say after the first 5 holes I wasn’t so much hanging onto his shirt tail as trying to see him in the distance, his driver was like a snipers rifle and his putter sank things faster than a thirsty Irishman on St Paddy's day.

So I decided enough was enough, the next hole was a short par 3 and by some miracle Rhoy ended in bunker offering me a very small window which I was definitely going to take, while he was getting set in the bunker I casually stole his driver and putter and buried them under the sand of another bunker, he played his shot and was very close to me on the green.

“Dell, (his name for me) wheres my putter?” 

“ no idea Rodney, maybe you left it on the last green” 

“shit, I’ll have to call the clubhouse to bring me another one”  (I’m sure you can see where this is going)

“Just one thing Rodney, we agreed no adding clubs to your bag once we had started, so soz my son, but you can’t do that” I was dying to laugh as his face went from bemusement to realising just what had happened,

“Bru, that’s cheating” “ I’m sure I don’t know what you're talking about, but can you take the flag out

for me I’m starting to feel good about this one”

And bingo I nailed my putt,  Rhoy doesn't really do mad, he was a bit pissed at me and so much so that he 3 putted, Yeeeeeessssss I screamed inside, now we have game on……..

Next T Rhoy goes for his driver and we go through very much the same routine,  I am almost crying with laughter, because he knows what I have done, but he agreed to the rules, he smashes a 3 wood somewhere into the future and off we go down the fairway in our buggy as usual reaching my ball almost a day before we find his.

My next shot is amazingly straight and on the fairway, I can see it’s not too far from Rhoy’s, so I needed a diversion, as we get close to his ball, I pull the equivalent of a handbrake turn in the buggy almost throwing Rhoy out and unbeknown to him parking directly on top of his ball.

After he had given me a slap for my crazy driving he got out a started looking for his ball, obviously I just sat in the buggy watching him,

“where the fuck has it gone, Dell what did you do this time”

“ How could I do anything you have been sat next to me Rodney, looks like you��ll have to take a drop”.

Needless to say my score was now getting closer, and combined with my unique counting method, we were very close, I had lost count of the amount of times Rhoy had said “how many??” when he asked how many shots I had taken,  It was almost as if he didn’t believe me or possibly that he just couldn’t count, that would have been ironic as he is a chartered accountant among many other things.

I displayed some very impressive shots with my irons, especially when I kept hitting his clubs and ended up bending 3 of them, Rhoy seemed to be becoming increasingly forgetful and leaving his clubs behind, he now had 7 clubs less than he started with, (at least his bag would be lighter to carry home), meanwhile I was on fire.

My drives were now reaching 300 yards, with the help of the golf buggy carrying them an extra 150, my putter was on fire, my delayed spin shot had saved me so many times, and my “hand grenade” (another on of my specials) bunker shot was working very well, Rhoy still seemed unable to count and showed genuine surprise when I told him I was actually leading by 2 shots with 3 to play.

Rhoy birdied 16 to get back to one shot, and did the same on 17, even though I had developed a coughing fit in perfect time with every one of his back swings.

So we stood side by side on the 18th T, all square like 2 Gladiators in the Colosseum, each giving and asking no quarter, total respect being shown to each other (Rhoy had lost another club, and was looking at T-ing off with his sand wedge), the smell of battle was strong and pungent in the air.

I looked at him, “Rodney, may the best man win and obviously by the best man I mean me”, He looked down at me and just shrugged his big shoulders, I think he knew I was unbeatable and defeat was going to be his ugly bed fellow tonight.

So the Mauritian Open Champion hit his T shot, It went high, very high in fact as only a sand wedge can, I set up my lucky Titelist 3 ball and absolutely smashed it with all of my power, I called this one my Explosive shot, it went long, not straight, but long and disappeared into some very dodgy looking rough, Rhoy smiled at me, his local course knowledge told him that was a lost ball.

Amazingly I found it very quickly and even sitting on the only piece of grass within the rough, the Callaway logo reflecting the bright light of the sun, I think this was all getting very emotional for Rhoy, I could see his neck was very red, (which was unusual as Rhoy is very brown), I hit a magnificent shot and the green was in sight (this was a par 5).

Rhoy stood over his second, I could see his shoulders shaking, was he laughing?

Then I heard a  muffled sob, then I realised the man was broken, my pure ability and power was too much for him, he duffed his shot hitting the ball way left into the trees.

I almost ran to my ball and could see the Nike logo on the side of it perfectly, that was my target, I hit it sweet and true, somehow it hit a tree and then looked as if it had diverted into a greenside bunker, I could live with that,

“you’ve lost that one Dell, that’s dead in the trees”

“ I don’t think so Rodney I think it took a bounce into the greenside bunker, pin high even”

The sobs had grown louder and I don't mind admitting I did think this smacked of gamesmanship, but I didn’t want to complain,

Eventually Rhoy got his shit together and made the green, I had a couple of shots in hand, c’mon my son I was shouting and doing lots of fist pumping.

I got to the greenside bunker and sure enough sitting nicely was my Calloway special, it was a very high bunker so once again while Rhoy was looking for tissues I executed the “hand grenade” bunker special, well blow me what a shot, it only ended 2 feet from the pin….

I did think Rhoy was rather ungallant in making me putt out, but I did and won the game by 3 shots, it was a truly memorable day, in fact it was,

The day I beat the Mauritian Open Golf Champion on his own course.

(Funny thing, Rhoy has never payed golf again since that day, I believe the counselling has helped him though, come to think of it, he never paid me the $200 either!!)